


The Naming of Direwolves

by Bryonia_Alba



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - Martin
Genre: Gen, missing moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 21:03:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bryonia_Alba/pseuds/Bryonia_Alba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon Snow and his trueborn siblings feed their direwolf pups and decide on names.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Naming of Direwolves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fuzzytale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzytale/gifts).



Someone, probably one of Gage the cook's underlings, had found an old blanket. It now lined the bottom of an empty crate, creating a warm, comfortable nest for the litter of pups Jon and Robb had found earlier in the day. Gage was busy heating milk for them, grumbling under his breath all the while, decrying the presence of "the murdering beasts" in his kitchen.

Only three of the pups curled in the blanket, crawling around blindly, nosing the wool with tiny wet noses and whimpering. The other three were being held by Jon and his brothers Robb and Bran, already claimed. They waited only for their remaining siblings to arrive and take their pick from the rest.

The white wolfling yipped in Jon's arms before settling more firmly in the crook of his arm, watching the activity around him with bright red eyes. The smells of baking bread and roasting meat and chopped onions filled the kitchen, making the little pup's nostrils flare.

A few moments later Jon's remaining siblings spilled into the kitchen, Rickon and Arya excited, Sansa entering more sedately behind her mother and Septa Mordane.

"Is it true?" Arya demanded, bouncing on her toes. "We're to have pups of our very own?" She spotted the crate right away and went straight to it, completely unafraid. "Which one is mine?"

"There are four male and two female," Jon replied, scratching his white pup around his ears. "The bitches are for you and your sister, and the last one is for Rickon."

"That would be this one," Robb added, reaching into the crate and picking up the darkest grey pup, setting it onto the floor in front of Rickon. "Go ahead, pick it up. Let it smell you and get to know your scent." Rickon looked at the pup uncertainly, taking a small step backward when it began crawling toward him.

Arya, however, gave a cry of delight, diving into the crate and retrieving a pup and cradling it to her chest. "Oh, look Sansa! Their eyes aren't even open yet!"

Sansa, ever the little lady, walked sedately to the crate, looking over the side. "They are very sweet," she said softly, picking up the last one. The pup licked her chin and she giggled. "Do they have names?"

"That is for us to give," Jon said. "They're ours."

Gage set a small copper kettle on a side table, still frowning. "Milk's warm," he announced. "I'll go see if I can find some towels."

Jon went to the table, joined by his trueborn siblings and their lady mother. Lady Catelyn had watched the proceedings in silence the entire time, watching while Jon and her children stroked and cuddled the direwolf pups, laughing and giggling. Robb had finally coaxed Rickon into picking up his pup, and his gleeful chortles were the loudest of all. Catelyn wore an expression of mingled uncertainty and perhaps disapproval of Lord Stark's decision to gift his children with the wolflings; but some signs couldn't be ignored. Six pups, six children. It was fated to be.

Gage returned with the towels, not quite flinging them down beside the kettle. "Try not to make a mess of things," he told Jon. "Some of us have real work to do."

"What do we do?" Arya asked, picking up a rag. "How do we feed them like this?" Next to her Bran leaned forward in interest, picking up another rag. The others followed until they all had one.

"Watch me and Robb," Jon replied. Twisting the towel, he dipped one end into the kettle of warm milk, holding it their until the absorbent material soaked up as much as it could hold. Letting most of the excess drip back into the kettle, he shifted his grip on his wolfling and brought the towel to his mouth. The pup's small, pink tongue darted out, licking at the fallen drops before latching onto the towel and sucking.

One by one the others followed suit, until all of the pups nursed contentedly at the makeshift teats. Arya giggled every time a drop spilled, dripping onto her arm. Bran's brows furrowed in concentration as he diligently fed his pup; and even Sansa wore a soft smile of ladylike pleasure.

"Shaggydog hungry!" Rickon announced, dipping his towel back into the kettle. Some of it actually absorbed before he brought it back to his pup's mouth to suck. "Good Shaggydog."

Bran's nose wrinkled. "Is that his name?"

"Shaggydog, shaggydog, shaggydog," Rickon singsonged, and Jon gave a quiet chuckle.

"I suppose it is," he said. "What will you name yours, Bran?"

His brother shrugged. "I don't know yet. Perhaps one of the heroes from Old Nan's stories, only there are so many of them I can't decide which to choose!"

"I think I shall name mine Lady," Sansa said after a moment, delicately dipping her towel back into the kettle. She was concentrating on her task, and therefore didn't see that it was Arya whose nose wrinkled this time at the naming choice. Her eye caught Jon's and they exchanged tiny smiles as Sansa continued, "I will teach her to sit at my feet while I do needlework, and not make a sound when I play the harp."

"You don't want her to sing with you?" Robb teased. Sansa glared before turning her attention back to her pup.

"She will do no such thing. I will teach Lady her courtesies, and she'll be the most polite wolf in the Seven Kingdoms, you'll see."

"I think Lady's a stupid name," Arya muttered, too low for her sister to hear; and Jon's lips twitched, fighting back another smile. Robb, seated nearby, wasn't nearly as successful.

"What of yours?" Jon asked, nodding toward the grey pup in Robb's arms. "What will you name him?"

Robb looked down at his pup, his expression fond. "I haven't yet decided between Grey Wind, or Smoke. I think I'll wait until his eyes have opened and he can do more than crawl. It's hard to tell right now whether or not he'll be fast as the wind."

The pups eventually drank their fill, their furry bellies tight as drums, snuggling into arms and against chests to sleep it off until their next feeding, a few hours hence.

"Are we to keep them in the kennel until their eyes open?" Sansa asked, stroking Lady's soft fur. "How are we to train them properly?"

Robb shook his head. "Farlen has already refused to have anything to do with them," he replied. "Father said we must keep them with us always, so they will learn our scent as well as they know their own. We must treat them gently and earn their trust, yet be firm enough to teach them their place. We must never forget they are wild beasts, capable of devouring us in two bites once they're full-grown. It's up to us to ensure that never happens."

"That means they can sleep with us!" Arya said gleefully. "I'll like that."

"They will do no such thing," Lady Catelyn interjected, speaking for the first time since her arrival. "I will have baskets made up for each of them, and they shall sleep there. I will not have wolf hair on the sheets; and I'm quite sure the maids will thank me for it."

Arya's face fell, but brightened almost immediately. "Nymeria," she said. "I shall name her Nymeria, after the warrior queen from the old tales."

"That name is bigger than she is," Jon noted with a smile. "Wouldn't you rather name her something simpler?"

"Her name is Nymeria," Arya declared, "and so what if she's small now? She'll grow into it."

"I daresay she will." Jon's smile widened at her sister's confidence. "Who knows, she might even try to become pack leader."

"What of you?" Arya nodded toward his sleeping pup. "What will you name yours? Not Snow, that's already your name; and Ice is the name of Father's sword, so you can't name him that, either."

"Snowball?" Sansa suggested. "Snowflake?" She looked at the disgusted looks on the faces of her siblings and pouted prettily. "I can't think of anything else."

Robb regarded the wolf puppy in Jon's arms thoughtfully. "He's very quiet, isn't he?" he asked. "I don't think he's made so much as a whimper since you found him. Whisper, maybe?"

Jon considered the possibility, and finally shook his head. "Whisper is a good thought, but I've no doubt he'll howl with the best once he's full-grown," he said. "It doesn't quite fit him."

"He's pale as a wraith or a ghost," Arya commented. Her face lit up, meeting Jon's eyes excitedly as they both exclaimed, at the same time, "_Ghost_!"

"Ghost," Jon repeated. "Yes, I think that's the perfect name for him. Ghost." Looking back to Arya, he said, "Thank you."

"At least he won't have to grow into it, unlike Nymeria," Bran said.

"At least mine has a name!" Arya retorted.

"We ought not quarrel," Sansa said nervously, seeing her sister's scowl.

"Nobody's quarrelling," Robb said, just as Bran snapped, "Mine will be a much better name than Nymeria or Lady!"

Jon gazed at Ghost, letting his brothers and sisters' words wash over him, unheard and unheeded.

_Ghost_, he thought, something that felt a little like love fill his chest, making it tight. _Ghost is a good name, a fine name. Ghost it is._


End file.
